Running in freezing rain, through dark deserted streets, is a unique pleasure. It might not be to everyone's taste (actually, I am mostly sure it's a pretty niche taste), but for me it is perfect.
There is something indescribably uplifting about feeling icy droplets fall over me as I allow my legs to do what they enjoy the most. It is the most perfect freedom. And being one of the few out on the roads makes me feel like a total bad ass. Pelting through raindrops while others cower under umbrellas, grim faced, my grin in stark contrast. It's freedom from the city and the confines of every day life. It reminds me that I can do anything.
You couldn't ask for more from a run commute.
Plus it legitimises my second favourite activity - eating toast in the bath.